


cabaletta

by catsvspatriarchy



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21544471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsvspatriarchy/pseuds/catsvspatriarchy
Summary: so quite new a thingorA few small things Kelly Olsen learns about Alex Danvers.
Relationships: Alex Danvers/Kelly Olsen
Comments: 18
Kudos: 148





	cabaletta

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello friends,
> 
> my google searches for this fic included "explicit vs mature tag" (results not v helpful, i went with explicit) and "will ee cummings sue me" (i meant his estate obviously, dude died before i was born, and it turns out AO3 would probably have my back? nice!).
> 
> constructive criticism is welcome! i hope you enjoy the story.

Alex sings in the shower.

Kelly finds this out early, when it's still new and tentative between them, and she's still learning the taste of Alex's mouth, the softness of her inner thigh, the gentle pull of her hands. Her head's still full of Alex, the short strangled sound she makes when Kelly puts two fingers inside her, the scent of the skin behind her ear, the softness of her eyes in the dark, the clear and intense focus she can maintain even when Kelly's mouth is on her, and things Kelly has done to break that focus. 

It's a lot of newness, and Kelly has never been great with change – she knows this, and tries to embrace uncertainty more because life will always be uncertain. But she's always been a _relationship_ person - she likes knowing her lover's body as well as she knows her own, craves the trust and security that only comes with loving someone over time.

Alex is slippery in her way, and Kelly finds herself often grasping at air. There's an openness to her that Kelly can't get enough of, but there's also a darkness and a tendency to hold herself apart. That will be worrying, if Kelly lets herself focus on it. So she doesn't let herself focus, and instead tries to let sensation wash over her and stop thinking so much all the time.

She has limited success with that. It's definitely on brand that she's dressed and ready for the day, ready to leave while Alex is still showering. She takes the opportunity to take a few deep breaths and let her mind settle, and then she hears Alex.

Her voice is light and clear; she's singing a song that Kelly can't quite identify by the tune, although it scratches at her memory. She moves closer to the open bathroom door to listen and just stands there for a while, with the melody around her, listening to Alex hum through lyrics she doesn't know over the sound of water hitting tile. The water stops before she's ready, and she's leaning on the door, eyes half-closed, when Alex pulls it open, startling her.

Kelly takes a step back, but Alex steps forward, into her space. Her hair's in dripping strands around her face and she's wrapped in a towel. 

"Hey," says Alex.

"Oh, hey."

"Waiting outside the shower for me like a creeper?"

"I wasn't-" Kelly starts. "I was ready and I was just checking-"

Alex reaches for her arm. "I'm kidding."

"Oh," says Kelly. "Oh, of course you are. Sorry. I heard you singing."

Alex shakes her head. "Oh no. I don't sing."

Kelly pauses. “Mmm, I have pretty good hearing, and we're the only two people here -”

“Probably the television,” Alex says, not meeting her eyes. She trails her hand down Kelly's arm, over her wrist, lifting it, fingertips tracing through her palm and ending with a little flutter of rhythm against Kelly's own fingers, before letting her go. 

Kelly's hand stays in midair for a second, then she drops it back by her side. 

“Neighbors, maybe,” Alex goes on.

“Alex,” Kelly says, with a half-laugh, uncertain as to whether it's a joke. Alex's sense of humor is wry and dry, and it sometimes takes Kelly a beat to catch up. She points – Alex's loft is small, and the TV is just paces away from them. “It's not on. And I know it wasn't the neighbors. I was right here.”

“Mmm,” says Alex, mimicking Kelly's own doubtful noise of a moment ago. “Almost definitely the neighbors.”

“Do you even have neighbors?”

“I do,” says Alex. “They just usually stay quiet.”

“Except when you're in the shower, and they suddenly think, hey, perfect time for a song, especially given that my voice sounds just like Alex's?”

Alex smiles widely. “Exactly. I always knew you were a genius.”

Kelly raises an eyebrow; waits until she hears Alex sigh.

“Okay, fine. When I was little, I used to sing all the time. Then I went to school and the other kids made fun of me because I'd be humming in class or singing a little song in the playground. They thought I was weird. So, I stopped."

"Just like that?" Kelly asks, imagining little Alex carefully hiding this part of herself away from people, and wishing she could protect her somehow. She knows from experience how easily kids' hearts are hurt.

"Just like that," Alex says easily. "Never sang again. Unless I was drunk, or in the shower, or very, very-" She leans in for a kiss; touches her lips to Kelly's gently at first and then presses in harder. Kelly feels her jaw work and opens her mouth, meeting Alex's tongue with her own. She darts a lick at the side of Alex's lips, hears an intake of breath, and pushes her back against the door, fluffy towel against her hands, exploring Alex's mouth with her own. When she pulls back to take a breath, Alex swallows. "-Very happy," she concludes, a little out of breath.

"Well," says Kelly, when she regains her own equilibrium. "It was really pretty."

" _You're_ really pretty."

"You're smooth," Kelly says, laughing.

"That's what they tell me," Alex says, and moves in again. She tangles a hand in Kelly's hair and pulls the other woman into her. Her hips press into Kelly's and Alex kisses her neck, open-mouthed and impossibly hot and wet and soft. The towel is slipping.

"Ummm," says Kelly, closing her eyes and giving Alex more access. "James. I'll be late to meet James."

"James won't mind waiting," Alex says, and starts unbuttoning Kelly's shirt. Her wet hair drips on it, spattering Kelly's expensive white silk with water.

"You're getting me wet."

Alex pulls back, and smiles at her slowly.

"Not - that was _not_ \- _Alex_!"

"Kelly," says Alex, and drops the towel.

Kelly _whimpers_ , is the only way she can describe it. It would be downright embarrassing, if she wasn't being supremely distracted by Alex pulling her blouse free and stripping it down her arms, letting it float and fall to the floor as Alex kisses her way down her chest. She can feel Alex's hand scrabbling at her back, trying to unfasten her bra, and she arches her back to try to help, to get more of Alex's skin on hers. Her skirt is next, the sound of the zip still loud around their combined breathing, and Alex nips at her collarbone and winds her fingers through Kelly's, pushing her backward until Kelly nearly trips over the skirt pooling at her feet, and then her mouth is on Kelly's breast and her heart just about stops.

Kelly's vision is gray around the edges and Alex's head is bent to her, droplets of water still on her shoulders. She lets herself feel for a long moment, feel the heat rushing through her chest, the deep twist of something long-forgotten in her belly, the quickening pulse that is taking over her body. Then she slips her hands into Alex's wayward hair and tugs. 

Alex pulls back, her eyes on Kelly's face a question.

"Kara," says Kelly finally. "You're going to be late to meet Kara."

Alex bites her lip. "Kara won't mind waiting either." She hesitates, doesn't step back from Kelly, but doesn't keep moving either. 

"Okay," Kelly says, and pushes her backwards, toward the unmade bed. "Okay, good."

"Good?" Alex asks, with a breath that might be a laugh, moving with Kelly's will, following her steps like they're dancing.

"Good," Kelly confirms, and pushes her down onto the bed. She covers Alex's naked body with her own; her bra still hanging on one arm, her panties still on but rapidly coming askew under Alex's teasing fingers.

Her head clears for a moment. "Wait."

Alex freezes, dead still. It would be kind of funny, if it wasn't also one of the kindest things Kelly's ever seen. "Wait?" she asks gently, after a moment.

Kelly tries to stop the quirk of a smile. "Can I hear you sing again sometime?"

Alex groans and buries her head into Kelly's neck, her breath hot. 

"I'm serious," Kelly says, running her hands down Alex's belly, between the two of them. Their skin sticks and unsticks in the combined dampness, and she leaves her hands in place and starts kissing her way down instead, lips and tongue tracing the texture and the taste.

Alex makes a sound that could be affirmative or could - no, Kelly's pretty sure that's an affirmative.

"Alex, I'm serious," Kelly says again, her mouth over Alex's navel. The few drops of water are clear and flat, and there's a hint of the taste of soap, and Alex's thighs tremble as she moves lower.

There's a low whine, this time, and Kelly is starting to learn the meaning of that sound.

"Alex," she says again, this time against Alex's thigh, whispered low against skin.

Alex arches her back; disentangles a hand Kelly hadn't even noticed was in her hair and passes it over her own eyes. "Kel," she says, loud and almost a question, and then: "Kel, _please_."

Kelly takes pity on her, and shifts her weight forward until her mouth is on Alex's sex. Alex surges against her, grinding down with a gasp, and Kelly leans into it, feeling the velvet-hot of Alex against her, surrounded by the scent of her and drowning in her taste, clean and electric as a thunderstorm. She takes her time on Alex's labia and circles the hard bud of her clitoris with her tongue, and pushes inside, feeling the wetness of her mouth mingle with Alex, huffs a breath against her, says Alex's name almost unintelligibly and in a way that's far more reminiscent of a moan herself.

It's slower than Kelly expected; softer than it has been. She can feel Alex's muscles clench against her mouth; a momentary tightness around her tongue as Alex cants her hips forward, hands scraping at the sheets and casting about until Kelly catches one in her own, linking their fingers and grounding her. Alex comes on a sigh, her body shaking and her fingers so tight Kelly is about to pull away, but then she loosens her grip and makes a sound that's almost a sob.

Kelly loosens her grip on Alex's thigh with her other hand and gently, softly, kisses her way back up to Alex's stomach. She's struck by the contrast all of a sudden; going from molten softness to hard muscle, although she suspects Alex is flexing for her benefit. It's cute, and she knows they'll get more comfortable together in time. They have the time.

“Up here,” Alex says, pulling at her hand. Kelly inches forward and settles into Alex's arms, letting Alex nuzzle into her hair. It's something Kelly's coming to treasure already, this easy physicality, Alex's need to touch and caress. Kelly's on the reserved side of physical affection herself, a legacy of years of Don't Ask Don't Tell and self-preservation, and this is good for her – she can feel herself calming when Alex strokes her back or pulls her in for a hug.

“ _So_ late,” she says, and hears Alex laugh into her hair.

* * *

Kelly's new job takes energy and time, and Alex – Alex is always at work, it seems, always saving the world or preparing to save the world or cleaning up after saving the world. They both love what they do, so it's not a hardship. It just means they don't have much time for each other.

They text and snapchat when they have time and, because Kelly prefers it, they call, usually late at night when they're both tired and worn down and sometimes wine-drunk.

It can make for sweet conversation, murmured endearments in the dark, and whispered promises. It's also when they have their first fight, when Kelly's had a day of trying to keep things whole. She's uprooted so much of what used to be her life lately, and it can be hard to adjust to that when her first priority is always making other people feel comfortable. She worries about her clients, she worries about Alex, she worries about their relationship, she worries about James.

And she eats jellybeans instead of making actual food for dinner. Which is satisfying, if not especially wise, because the sugar crash leaves her itching and irritable. Her skin is hungry for touch, and she both wants Alex here, right now, and kind of wants Alex to leave her alone, because in her weakened moments in the middle of the night she's afraid this can never work out, and she's going to get hurt and end up alone, again.

Here's the logic: they're busy, they're busy and career-focused and caught up in their own worlds and families and friends, their own pasts and differences. They don't have time for each other. They don't have time to build anything, to spend long lazy mornings together, to just sit and soak up each other's presence, to get to know each other and get comfortable.

Their fresh, new relationship has been a strike of lightning, but Kelly wants something deeper and softer; something she can count on.

That's what she thinks about late at night, and that's what's on her mind when Alex calls at three A.M.

She's on her couch in a oversized t-shirt, a knitted throw over her legs, catching up on reading professional journals in between trying unsuccessfully to sleep, and her ringtone makes her jump. No one calls at oh-three hundred unless something terrible's happening, and her heart skips a beat: _James_.

It's Alex's name on her screen though, the caller image a selfie she'd taken of the two of them, Kelly smiling at the camera and Alex looking at her like she's the last good thing left in the world.

"Alex?" 

"Hey," she hears Alex say, softly.

"What is it? What's going on?"

"Nothing," Alex says. "I just wanted to talk to you."

"Oh God," Kelly says. "It's the middle of the night, I thought someone was dead."

"It's-" Alex trails off. "Oh no, I didn't realize how late it was. I'm so sorry, ugh, I only just got back, I should have looked - "

"It's okay," Kelly says. "It's good to hear from you. You got my adrenaline going, that's all."

"Well, that's what a girl always likes to hear," says Alex, a hint of smile in her tone.

Kelly can feel herself smoothing out just a little bit, relaxing at the sound of Alex's voice. She's crazy about this woman, she has to admit. It's too fast and too early and she's going to get hurt, but she's crazy.

She composes herself. "How was your day? Or night, I guess, now."

"Hell," Alex groans immediately. "I'm tired, I hurt, I hate everyone, I have a bruise on my hip and thigh - you should see my bruise! It's literally black and blue, it's gross - and my feet hurt and I don't care about other people's problems anymore."

"Oh," says Kelly, a little taken aback at the intensity.

"Yeah," says Alex. "And I want to see you and it's not fair that you're not here."

"Okay," says Kelly, and feels her back straightening as a touch of defensiveness creeps into her tone. "I have to work tomorrow. Today."

Alex ignores the warning in her voice, or maybe doesn't hear it. "I don't even see you! All of this is going on and it's been what, two weeks? How are we supposed to be together if we don't see each other?"

"Alex," Kelly says. "You said it yourself – it's been two weeks. We're both adults. That's not an unreasonable amount of time not to see each other."

Kelly hears her blow out a frustrated breath. "It _is_ , though. It's unreasonable. I don't want this to be some casual thing, I want to be with you, and I don't want to wait around."

Kelly answers slowly. "Do you think I'm being casual about it?"

Alex pauses. "Well, maybe."

Kelly's a reasonable, rational adult - a scientist. She cares about people and tries to see both sides of every story, and she never rushes to conclusions. One of the things Alex Danvers doesn't know about her yet, though, is that when she's tired and hungry and people push her, she can go zero to white-hot rage in a second.

"I-" Kelly starts, and hears her voice tremble. She clenches a fist, takes a breath, holds and releases. "Alex, I don't know if this is a good time to discuss this."

"When _is_ a good time to discuss it, then?" Alex's reply comes back clipped and fast, and maybe Alex knows something about white-hot herself. "When we get together? Oh, that's right, we don't _get_ together, we don't have time. I have work and you have work and there's Kara and there's James and there's whatever damn stupid thing that's going on in the world right now that I'm always having to fix, that we're always having to fix and it never gets any better, it just keeps on going and I'm sick of it, Kel, I'm just fucking sick of it all." Her voice rises and rises: she's almost shouting by the end, and Kelly holds the phone back from her ear.

She takes a deep breath, watches her hand tremble. "I don't think this is a good time to discuss this," she says, and hangs up.

It's stupid, she thinks, trying to settle herself down. She hears her phone chime and ignores it. She's being childish. She's aware.

She's also angry, and she's learned enough about herself over the years not to try and push that anger down anymore. She sighs, gets dressed, and goes to the all-hours gym to work out some frustration.

* * *

On zero hours sleep, Kelly does not have a very productive day. She's distracted and lacks her usual focus at work, and she jumps every time her phone vibrates silently (three times in the morning, every one a text from Alex. Each time she puts her phone back away and tries to concentrate on what she's doing). 

At lunchtime, she gets a salad to try and balance out yesterday's jellybean meal, reads through Alex's texts (apologetic; worried; increasingly worried; extremely worried), and calls her.

"Kelly, hey," Alex says. Kelly can't quite read the tone of her voice, but it's soft.

"Hey," she says back, a little awkwardly. 

She takes a breath, ready to continue, but Alex gets in first.

"I was out of line last night."

"I shouldn't have hung up the phone," Kelly says. "I just cut off communication, and it's not acceptable. I apologize for that. I just didn't think I was in a good place to talk about it, and I didn't want to have an argument. I wasn't ready to have an argument. Which, okay, doesn't make sense, because now we've had an argument."

"Kelly, you can get mad at me, it's okay. Trust me, people get mad at me all the time."

"No, it's pointless, and it wasn't about you. Well, it was and it wasn't. I kind of have a temper. I work on it – I do. I just didn't want to subject you to my bad mood. It wouldn't be fair."

There's a sound from Alex that could be a released breath, or could be a breeze, if she's outside. Kelly realizes she doesn't know where Alex is, and wonders if she's out on assignment, and fleetingly whether she's safe. She pushes the thought down.

"You don't have to be a therapist with me, you know," Alex says. "You don't have to be perfect all the time."

"I'm definitely not perfect.”

"Good, 'cause me either."

"Oh, I know _that_ ,” Kelly says, feeling the corner of her mouth quirk up.

"Wow," says Alex. "Really?"

"We should spend more time together," Kelly says.

"I agree, like one million percent, but also I was being weird and clingy and it's because - " there's a pause, and a rustling sound. "Kel, I love - being around you. I like you - you're kind and you're funny and you're calm and well, normal, and every time you touch me I feel like everything's going to be okay after all, and I just miss it. I got comfortable with you so quickly – I never do that, _no one_ does that to me - and now I feel like I never want you to take a step away from me."

"Oh," says Kelly, slowly.

"Which - is weird and clingy and I wasn't going to do that. But it's an explanation, because you deserve one. I don't want to screw this up."

Kelly's heart catches. "Nothing's screwed up, Alex. I feel it too - I _miss_ you, so much, which is strange because it feels like we just got together and now we're miles apart - "

Alex makes a soft noise, like an animal that's been hurt. "We're not miles apart, please don't say that."

Kelly shakes her head. "I'm not expressing myself clearly." She takes a breath, and thinks about what she wants to say, cuts it down to the important components. "I was frustrated, so I didn't take what you were saying well. But you're right. We need to see each other."

"Let's make a time," Alex says. "Lock it in, stick to it. And if I need to, I will burn down the DEO and anyone who gets in my way."

"That seems excessive," Kelly says. "I mean, you could just tell them you're going for coffee and then not come back."

"You know what, Kelly Olsen, I don't know how I ever got along without you."

* * *

There's a slight air of awkwardness, when they see each other again. Kelly brings sunflowers and sandwiches and wears her hiking boots, because Alex mentioned going for a walk and she's not quite sure what a walk entails, with Alex.

When Alex opens the door, she stands there for a moment while Kelly's in the hallway, and looks her up and down. A smile spreads across her face, and Kelly feels herself warm.

It turns out it's a good thing she wore the boots, because Alex's idea of a walk is Kelly driving them out to the canyon for a half-day hike. Kelly recognizes it as an easing off of the throttle, a chance to reconnect on neutral ground after their hiccup of the other night. And it's a good idea, really – despite Kelly's middle-of-the-night gym visits, she's itching for some real exercise, and getting out into nature has always helped to bring her back to what's important.

Alex - child of a pretty, middle-class coastal town, from what Kelly understands - makes disparaging noises about the scenery, but Kelly feels a kind of kinship with the desert and scrub and rocky hills. She likes the baked-dry scent of the earth and the redness of the angular rocks – there's a clarity of light that speaks to her, and the dust and the blue-flame sky reminds her of other times. Kelly's spent a lot of her life traversing this kind of terrain, in more ways than one.

Over their walk they see other hikers and horseback riders. Kelly stops to chat, if people seem to want to, and after the first few times Alex stops rolling her eyes and goes with it. She gets into conversation with a young couple about dry heat versus humidity, and they all walk together for a while, Alex occasionally chiming in but mostly staying quiet, a bemused look on her face whenever Kelly catches her eye. By the time they split up at a trail fork, the younger guy's typed their email address into Kelly's phone in case she makes it out to Atlanta sometime and wants to get coffee. 

After the two men head back to their car, Kelly looks at Alex. There's a faint smile there now, in addition to the look.

“What?”

“Nothing,” says Alex.

“No, what? Is there something on my face?”

“I just like looking at you,” Alex says.

It takes Kelly aback, the softness in her lover's eyes, and she has never been a shy person, but under Alex's gaze she feels it. She's getting used to Alex's humor and dark sarcasm, learning her way, but it's the gentle moments that hit her like a truck. They walk in silence for a few minutes, and then Alex bumps her with her hip, and reminds her to drink some water, and the moment passes.

In the spaces in between it's so quiet out here, and Kelly finds a rhythm in the rests between sounds that's familiar. If she avoids any brush large enough to contain a person or she tenses under a rock overhang, that's just her life now, and Alex doesn't seem to notice. 

They hike until Kelly's legs ache and sweat drips down her back, and head back to Alex's apartment when the afternoon draws down. It's a longer drive back because they left it late and traffic's heavy, and they're quiet except for Alex's road trip mix (heavy on Led Zeppelin, Canadian alt-rock, and, surprisingly, jazz). Kelly's mind is tired and clear, and when she looks over at Alex, smiling softly to herself, head resting against the closed window with the last of the day's sunlight lighting her hair, it's a little scary, how perfect everything is.

* * *

"Pizza," Alex groans, throwing her pack on the couch and starting to unlace her boots. "I must have pizza."

"Pizza," Kelly agrees, and gets out her phone. "And beer."

Alex raises an eyebrow. "I have beer, but we've been out in the sun all day. I feel like if I hit you with some alcohol you're going to fall asleep."

"And you won't?"

"My alcohol tolerance is going to surprise you."

"Hmm," says Kelly. "I'm pretty sure I can take you."

Alex grins.

* * *

Kelly has not spent most of her adult life in the military and not learned a little something about drinking, and Alex is surprised and moderately impressed when she sinks her third beer without so much as a slurred word.

"I'm out," Alex says, pushing her half-finished bottle away until it clinks against the vase of sunflowers. "You win. I need to take a shower, anyway."

"Right," says Kelly, and suddenly the apartment is too still; too silent. "Uh, I should go."

Alex's face falls. "Right," she says. "Of course. Work tomorrow."

"Work every day, it seems like."

"It does," Alex says, and her voice is quiet.

Kelly leans over to kiss her, and breathes in the scent of her, sweaty and dusty and sunny. She closes her eyes for a moment, and then she gets her purse.

"Go shower," she tells Alex. "I can let myself out."

Alex's smile is a little sad. "Text me that you got home safe?"

"Of course," Kelly says, and feels through her purse for her phone, planning to put it in her pocket so she doesn't forget. Alex has closed the bathroom door by the time she realizes it isn't there, and she tries to retrace her steps. She had it to order pizza, so there's a limited number of places it could be. She's pulling up couch cushions when she hears something, and stops moving.

She still can't identify the song, but Alex's voice is clear and high and so beautiful. The shower runs over the sound of it, softening and blurring the words, but the curve of melody is unmistakable. Kelly finds herself outside the bathroom door again, fixed and unable to walk away.

It's where Alex finds her when the water turns off, when she's wrapped herself in a towel, her hair in now-familiar watery strings, her face scrubbed clean and ridiculously beautiful, and Kelly looks at her, and looks at her, and can't look away.

"Oh," says Alex when she sees her, and smiles. "Oh hey, creeper. You stayed."

"I'm not creeping," Kelly says.

"Waiting for me outside the shower, pretty much sounds like a creeper move to me."

"I heard you singing again."

Alex grimaces. "Oh. That."

"Don't make that face," Kelly says, and touches a finger to Alex's nose. Alex blinks.

"So all I have to do to get you to stick around is shower?"

"I want to stick around, Alex. It's just - there's work - "

"There's work," Alex agrees, taking a step toward her.

"You're busy, I'm busy, and we're taking this slow - "

"Very slow," Alex says, and runs a wet hand up Kelly's arm, stopping to caress her neck before following the line of her shirt down, and undoing the top button.

"And - uh," Kelly says, as Alex's other hand slips under the hem of her shirt. Alex is cool from the shower, and she feels her skin gooseflesh at the touch. "There was - some - other - reason."

"Almost definitely another reason," Alex says, breathlessly, and kisses her. Alex's mouth is so hot, in contrast to the cool dampness of her skin, and when she keeps exploring down Kelly's neck, over her collarbone, undoing another button, Kelly grits her teeth against a moan, but can't quite stop it escaping. 

She feels rather than hears Alex laugh against her skin, droplets of water shaking free of her hair and falling on Kelly's now-dusty shirt and skin.

“I haven't showered,” Kelly says, suddenly aware of how she must smell in contrast to Alex's scent of clean skin and eucalyptus.

“I know, I'm _so_ offended,” Alex says, voice muffled, from the crook of Kelly's neck. 

Kelly raises her hands, and pushes Alex's head back, tucks wet hair back behind her ears. She traces the line of Alex's cheekbones in her mind, filing it into memory, then the burned-gold shade of Alex's eyes on her, the dark pupils, the wicked curve of her lips, the softness of her under Kelly's fingertips and mouth, the way she smells and feels and sounds. It's its own kind of music, this thing they're building.

“You know,” Alex says slowly. “I can see a solution to several problems, here.”

Kelly cocks her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Okay, you haven't showered. You want to hear me sing. I only sing in the shower. I _have_ a shower, it's right over there.” She looks over her shoulder, then looks back at Kelly. “You see it?”

“I see it,” Kelly says.

“And you see where I'm going with this?”

“I'm not sure,” says Kelly. “You might have to spell it out.”

Alex drops the towel, and levels a questioning look at her. “Clear yet?”

Kelly steps forward, so their bodies are touching; Kelly's still in jeans and shirt, Alex's naked and wet, molding to her own. She bites her lip. “Still not sure,” she says.

Alex's laugh is a song as she grabs Kelly's hands in her own and pulls her backward, step by step. “Let me see if we can clear it up.”


End file.
